I imagine hell is when you’re sick as fuck and your mom is blasting Pandora in the next room of a small apartment and belting out every tune at the top of her voice. Not helpful Mom.
This is my life currently. I’ve been in my home state a week and one day. I caught a nasty cold probably from being exposed to all sorts disgusting germs from all over the place and from being away from America for so long. I’ve probably also run myself ragged trying to do everything under the sun in just a week forgetting that I have many more weeks here before I leave. I’m certain that is the anxiety. It’s probably not gonna let me rest the entire time I’m here because “your time in America is finite” is playing on a loop in my head. Thanks anxiety.
In other news I’m halfway through the progesterone and nothing has happened yet. I do remember she said that when I finish it, the period should come. I’ve had some mild cramps. Nothing too awful and they are fleeting.
I wish I could breathe out of my nose. I am at this moment a literal mouth breather. I am not a pretty sight. I broke down and went to the drugstore for some medicine. I got some strong stuff, and it made me feel slightly better. I’ve forced myself to stay in bed all day. It’s awful. I’m marathoning the most recent season of “House of Cards” to keep me sane. It’s probably just making things worse.
I’m about to force myself in the shower because I’m gross and I hope the steam will clear up some congestion. Go away sick. You’re not wanted here anymore.